Immortalitatis
by Hate being abducted by aliens
Summary: A different POV regarding "Milagro".
1. Chapter 1

**Authors' note:** The idea of this story emerged during a Skype conversation between two friends, Lauren and Camila, concerning the amazing episode "Milagro". Since the main idea was too good to be ignored or wasted, these two friends finally decided to share it with others MSR fans. So, this story is the "baby" of two combined thoughts. The first chapter, the perfect and unbearably sexy "In Heat", was writen by the lovely genius XFoxMuldersGirlX, and the second one, the short "Carnal Resurrection", by Hate being abducted by aliens. After all, great minds do think alike!

**Disclaimer:** We own nothing, just our minds.

Hope you all enjoy this just as much as we did!

Reviews are more than welcome!

Tks,

XFoxMuldersGirlX & Hate being abducted by aliens.

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><p><span>Chapter 1: In Heat<span>

The atmosphere in her apartment was horribly oppressive and Scully was struggling for breath. It was hot, humid and she had dark invisible clouds pressing down on her. All she wanted was to get out and feel fresh air on her face. She paced her living room floor, in a fluid, monotonous cycle, occasionally breaking the circle, to walk in straight lines instead. But where would she go? Who would she see? Not Mulder. She could not to Mulder's, he was the very last person she wanted to see right now, but yet he was the only person she was thinking of at this very moment. Every passing moment was filled with thoughts of her partner. And the reason that her head was a swirling vortex of Fox Mulder? Because Scully didn't want her head being filled with unwanted thoughts of the man she had shared the lift with, the man who sent her the "Milagro", the man who told her the story of the "Burning Heart", the one who's apartment she had been in, the man who had, in his mind, devoured her whole. The man who was in love with her.

Thinking of Mulder, her friend, her partner, was the only way Scully could calm her restless mind, but even as her thoughts unsuccessfully wandered from Mulder to _him_, Scully found that she could not hate herself as she wanted to. Scully groaned in frustration, then walked over to the window and threw it open, in the hope of getting some relief, both for the stuffiness the room and to ease the traffic in her mind. The world outside of Scully's four walls was cold and wet and leaning out of the window, Scully tried to feel the cool air on her warm, flushed cheeks, but even the air outside, it seemed, was opaque and lazy. In an earlier attempt to cool herself down, Scully had removed her jacket, which had been placed carefully on the table, but had taken to fainting with its own heat exhaustion and was now on the floor in a crumpled sea of navy blue, her heels too had been abandoned, and short of removing all her clothing, Scully could do no more. She did however, unbutton her blouse. In public she would have been dangerously close to being considered indecent: but she wasn't, so Scully let her underwear show beneath the fabric of her shirt.

How unfortunate that she could get no relief, not only to cool her feverish skin, but to cool the thoughts raging in her head. She could contain them no longer. Images clawed at her brain, like parasites, burrowing deeper and deeper until they cannot be reached to be removed. They mingled and blurred. Where she wanted to see Mulder, she would see _him_instead. Where she longed to hear _him_, soft and whispering, all she would hear was Mulder, loud and harsh. Was it the weather that were causing these delusions? Or was it her own feverish, over worked mind that was trying to get her to notice something she had forgotten she knew? Either way, Scully wanted clarity, a crystal ball, in which to view her world again with the normality it never actually had.

As she contemplated the visions she saw, Scully could feel heats, sticky, clammy fingers creeping up her body, touching every inch of her, making her itch. It was getting too much to physically bear now, she longed for desire to release its hid on her. But desire wanted to keep Scully a little while longer and if Scully were being true to herself, she would say that, she too did not want to leave the iron grip that want had on her. In her heat addled mind, she was deserving of this torture, this sweet agony.

Just as Scully was going to surrender herself completely to her fantasies, she heard a familiar knock on her door causing her to jolt back into reality with unwelcome force.

The heat from Scully's apartment, hit Mulder full force as she opened her door to him. It was 5 degrees outside and raining hard enough to practically flood the streets and yet all the moisture in the air surrounding Mulder had been sucked dry in the instant that the door had been opened to him. He could feel his wet clothes practically steaming with the heat. _What the hell…? _He was mildly shocked at her appearance: Bare foot, creased, tousled hair, flashing more skin than he had respectfully known her too, looking flushed and, noticing that it was him outside her door, suddenly, very uncomfortable. He would go so far as to say that she was embarrassed.

Maybe it was the fact that Scully looked so completely different to how he usually saw her on a daily basis, or whether it was because she was flushed, her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright, but Mulder was certain that he had never seen her look as beautiful as she did right then. Mulder was annoyed, angry even, at Scully. The more he thought about it the more upset he became. He had gone over there to confront her about Padgett and why she didn't seem as keen to pin the string of vicious murders he had committed on him, but seeing her, like that, all thoughts of arguing, shouting, debating and work, went out right of the window, apparently along with the cold and wet that the rest of the world was having to deal with.

"Mulder?" she said breathlessly, with a degree of surprise. Clearly, Mulder thought, she wasn't expecting any visitors. He watched her run her hands through her hair, pulling it back, away from her face. She released her hands and let the soft tendrils frame her delicate face again, blowing out a deep breath as she did so, She inadvertently blew a curl out of place. Mulder noticed the strand of misplaced hair and leant towards her, reaching out to return the curl to its rightful place: resting peacefully on her right cheek. Scully saw that he was entering her personal space and automatically backed away from him, flinching at his touch. She had given him enough room to enter her apartment. It wasn't what she had wanted to do, but obviously Mulder had taken her step backwards as a wordless invitation into her world.

The warmth in the room was un-bearable. It was like being in a vacuum, all the moisture in the air being sucked away, and all that was left was a dry, heavy unmovable blanket of heat. Mulder was surprised that Scully wasn't suffering from heat exhaustion or something.

"Scully? You okay?" Mulder asked as he removed his coat, and placed it on the table, next to the spot that should have had Scully's blazer on it. He was concerned with her reaction. It was as though his fingertips were filled with electricity and had scorched her skin. He swore he saw undiluted confusion flash across her hot and sticky face for a fraction of a second. It was gone as soon as it came.

"I'm fine" was the answer he expected and the one he got but it didn't really satisfy his hunger for answers. He knew she was lying and he knew that Scully was well aware of that fact too. She turned from him and walked away, massaging her cheek where he had indeed brushed against her.

"Well you don't seem it!" Mulder pressed, determined to uncover her secret.

"Mulder!" Scully spun round and snapped at him. Silently she was overjoyed at seeing him, but she was still conflicted as to who she actually wanted to be here with her. Mulder or _him_.

"What's wrong Scully?" Mulder walked over to her radiator, testing a theory. It was stone cold. "Why is your apartment hotter than hell, when your heating isn't on and it's so cold outside? What have you been doing?" He asked his questions although he had an inkling about the truth of the situation: she had been acting slightly out of character ever since she told him of riding the lift with his new neighbour. He had some kind of effect on her: one that Mulder wasn't happy with. Truth be told Mulder was unnerved and jealous of Scully's "relationship" with Padgett. He knew it wasn't her fault. She wasn't choosing to feel this way over a stranger, but still…Mulder knew how he felt about Scully and he could hazard a pretty good guess that Scully returned his feelings for her, but he couldn't really be positive about that one…

Returning to his present situation, Mulder guessed that it was because of Padgett that Scully's apartment felt like the Sahara: The heat in the room was pure imagination on Scully's part, yet it had filtered through the cracks in the fabric of reality for both Scully and Mulder to suffer its effects.

"Nothing Mulder…" She tried to sound casual, but failed miserably. The look in her eyes told him the truth, they were pleading with him, begging him to keep asking so she could be honest with him. The emotion in her eyes captured him in a wave of sympathy. He went to stroke her face again. A familiar gesture done hundreds of time before, but now it had unwelcome consequences. Scully turned her head from him, bringing her hands up to veil her face from his un wanted touch.

"Don't…"she whispered from behind her hands. She didn't mean it. She meant the complete opposite, the second he brushed that errant strand of hair back to her face, she knew, just…knew, that it was him, and had been along. She wanted his touch, but she couldn't tell him that without causing herself more trouble than she was already in. Playing complicated minds games was about all she was able to do right now. The longer Mulder spent near her, the more certain Scully was that it definitely wasn't the writer she wanted. That was some sort of temporary psychological metamorphosis on her part, caused by his deeply disturbing and intimate knowledge of her. He knew things about her that even she didn't know herself and it drew her to him. Unwanted and unwelcome, was her attraction but not altogether disturbing.

The heat radiating from Scully was causing Mulder's body to respond to her. He knew it wasn't just because she was physically warm: it was sexual heat. And yet, although he wasn't too sure who Scully was thinking about right at that moment, him or his neighbour, Mulder didn't care. He just knew that he needed her.

"Don't what Scully?" he murmured, edging closer to her and taking hold of her wrist. he knew what her response was before she said it: _Don't touch me Mulder…_

"Don't touch me Mulder." Came her whispered automatic response. She lowered her hands as she spoke, looking at him, with a look that did indeed, tell him that she wanted him do ignore her claim and touch her. She made no attempt to remove Mulder's hand from her wrist. In her mind she was making no false protests, though verbally claiming that this wasn't what she wanted him to do, even though they both knew she was lying to herself. And to him.

"Why not?" he whispered back, his head bent at her ear, causing his breath to tickle the sensitive skin in that area.

"I don't want you too…" Scully trailed off, knowing that Mulder would interpret the true meaning of what she was saying. The air between their two bodies now was shimmering with visible tension. They were both unashamedly aroused and knew how this little situation was going to end up: Two people, no clothes, one bed, screaming the others name in utter pleasure.

"Oh…you don't?" Mulder smiled down at her, seductively, but suddenly he had images flashing through his head of Scully and _him,_together…she was in his bed, kissing him…loving him… and those sudden thoughts caused the anger he had repressed from earlier to resurface. It consumed him, like fire, he didn't want to see Padgett doing things to Scully that he could only dream of…Roughly he grabbed her other wrist, so she couldn't run, and pushed her against the wall, pinning her hands above her head. He didn't care if he hurt her. She deserved it didn't she? She wanted someone other than him? Scully gasped at his sudden attack on her, her pretty eyes wide with the shock. Then she smiled at him: his hold on her was painful, but she didn't want him to let go. As she looked up at him, her eyes darkened, and she saw his do the same. He wanted this…her, as much as she wanted him. She could feel her skin start to glisten with moisture, and as Mulder pressed his body against her own, she squirmed with pleasure beneath him.

Mulder's anger passed as quickly as it came, but now…he was so near her…Now he knew it wasn't jealousy or anger or hate that pushed him towards her…It really was _her_. Forgetting all the arguments he had had with his inner self about her previously…Mulder always put it down to their intimate nature of their partnership making him believe something that wasn't there to be seen, and nothing more, but now…? Now he knew for certain how he felt about her and it was pure torture being so close to her. His need to feel her was over whelming. He ached to touch her, to kiss her, but in the back of his mind he knew that he couldn't. He knew that even the slightest touch, the feeling of her lips touching his, would turn his world upside down, with pleasure and pain. It would be so right but completely wrong. She was his saviour, but right now, at this very moment, she was his downfall. He knew he was weak for her and if she continued to look at him the way she was doing, eyes lustful and inviting, he knew he would never recover from her. She was like some kind of a terminal illness to him, always within him, whether he wanted her to be or not. There was no cure for what Scully inflicted on Mulder. All he knew was that he didn't want the vaccination for whatever it was that she did to him. Whether it was purely just a chemical reaction to her or something more, something…cosmic, more…spiritual, Mulder didn't know, he just knew he wanted her, but somewhere in the dark, undiscovered recesses of his mind he knew it couldn't just be a primal desire.

He also knew that it wasn't just lust wracking his partner's body, and taking over every rational thought in her head. She loved him he knew… at least he hoped he knew. He had seen the signs over the past few months and would now pretty much swear to that fact on the bible if he were asked to. She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her, but he wouldn't do anything about it at this moment. It wouldn't be right and Scully would freak afterwards, more than likely she would slip back into the familiar, safe, Ice Queen routine that he had seen so often. He knew it was purely a survival mechanism for her. She wasn't as hard and cold as she portrayed herself to be, but that mask that she wore helped protect her: her mind, her soul… her heart, from anyone that wanted to slip inside and steal a piece of her. Scully couldn't let herself be vulnerable, couldn't open up to anyone, for fear of baring her heart and soul only to be hurt and rejected. She couldn't let herself be that exposed, that naked, metaphorically speaking, because being that truthful, that honest meant taking a chance on people. It meant risking emotions and feelings that could be used against her, and Scully didn't how to deal with this flawed end of the emotional spectrum. Mulder knew all of this and he also knew exactly how Scully would feel and how she would react afterwards if her were to act upon their instincts and make their fantasies of the other a reality, in spite of Scully "wanting" him to do so. First of all, she would "run" and ignore his calls, denying to herself and to him what had happened between them, regardless of whether it was lust or love. Next would come the weeks of silent treatment, blank expressions and one word answers, then eventually when he had had enough of the concrete wall he hit every time he tried to explain to her why _they_weren't anything to be scared of, to run away from, they would argue and he would say some horrendous things to her about her being a tease and leading him on, making her meet with Skinner and hand in her notice asking for a transfer to anywhere but out of the basement office with it's grey filing cabinets and UFO poster and it's erratic and paranoid owner, who was just as emotionally unstable as she was, only his problems were far more generalised. Mulder wore his heart on his sleeve and Scully didn't. It was this fact that was holding both of them back from the truth of their situation…

But damn was she making it difficult for him to not want to touch her.

All he could see where those hypnotic blue swirls. Eyes that contrasted beautifully with the vibrancy of her gentle red curls. Eyes that seductively showed him his dreams, his forbidden desires, everything that he ever wanted, but were so innocent and childlike at the same time. Whether Scully knew what she was doing to her partner Mulder didn't know but he couldn't decide whether he wanted to hit her or kiss her because of it. She was so infuriating, batting her thick black lashes at him, one moment looking coy and girlishly demure and the next as though she was the star attraction in one of his not-so-secret films. Her lips were so inviting, they were begging him to ravage them, soft and luscious, having that natural "just bitten" crimson colour to them. The longer he stared, the longer he wanted nothing more than to feel those petal soft lips against his own. Then his eyes wandered to the skin showing underneath her shirt. Those exposed swells, that heaved with each ragged, uneven breath his partner took.

_Please God if you are real and are listening and care just a little, please give me the strength to resist her…I'll be good, I swear, but please don't let me touch her…_

He was dangerously close to her. Seconds passed like an eternity. Mulder could hear the clock in Scully's kitchen, tick away the passing time. The sound of it was like thunder in his ears. Each tick, followed eventually by its resounding tock marked him for life, as he waited for his end. He would forever be able to recall the time that passed between his pinning Scully against the wall everything that systematically followed. His body betrayed him as his head bent closer and closer, until he could feel her hair against his cheeks. Scully, seeing her partner bend towards her, lifted her head to meet him. Mulder released one wrist and brought his free hand down to Scully's face and caressed her cheek. Scully left her now free hand up against the wall were Mulder had originally placed it. Hearing her breath catch at his cool hand on her warm face made him smile. He could practically taste her already, sweet and honey like and he found that it was addictive. He closed his eyes, breathing her scent in, tasting her once again on his tongue. Her breath was warm on his nose and mouth. She wanted him to do this he knew and he also knew that she was, again sending his senses into complete overdrive. She filled his head, heart, body and soul, like nothing else ever before…Not even his search for Samantha and the answers he so desperately sought had ever taken him over like this. Like she had…

His silent prayer was suddenly answered. Jehovah or the Angels or both_had_heard his desperately sent words asking for as much will power they could spare for him. Just as Mulder was going to give into his sins, the snake that he could hear so definably in his ear, slithered away and gave him up. He was millimetres away from tasting the forbidden fruit of Scully's lips and yet he loosened his grip on her arm. He was amazed that he could even do that. He had convinced himself that he was doomed, that the temptation that was Dana Scully would prove to be too strong to deny. But he did it. Slowly, uncertainly he released his grip on her wrist and lowered her arm down to her side and took his other hand from her face. He had survived her. He let out an audible sigh of relief.

The look of utter heartbreak of Scully's face, at the loss of him, almost made him forget his prayers and lose himself in her, but weak as he was for her, he remained strong…for her sake as well as his. If Scully were acting "herself" he knew she would not act like this and so it would be unfair of him to treat her like this, in spite of his newly found knowledge that she might actually love him. Almost instantly the temperature in the room cooled by several degrees. It was still unmistakably warm and the air still crackled with sparks. Live bursts of heated energy and sexual tension fizzed and tingled in the air, not going unnoticed by the two Agents. White heat could be felt behind their eyes, hot enough to shoot laser beams at anyone who dared interrupt this little moment between them. Had they misunderstood the feelings between themselves just now, had they blamed the "heat" or thought it purely just some kind of release, it was now undeniable. The look Scully was giving him, told him he was right. She was in love with him. It wasn't Padgett or the imaginary yet physical heat making her lustful and hazy. It was him. Fox Mulder. It was definitely third degree burn territory in Scully's apartment at that moment, what had happened scarred the both of them for life with invisible scorch marks that they would never recover from. No matter how they would have wanted to forgive and forget…or not, the energy, the heat, the need, the want… they would never be able to.. Their relationship had most definitely had changed forever. Destiny obviously had other plans for Mulder and Scully then they had for themselves. Its steel-like grip had them and would not relinquish its hold on them.

What was said between Mulder and Scully as they continued to read the feelings displayed in the others eyes' remained unknown to the world and unspoken by them, but they both knew that from now on things were very different between them. Mulder turned from Scully and without saying a word to her, left her, glowing with energy, breathless and alone in her apartment without so much as a backwards glance in her direction. He didn't even bother to take his coat with him.

By XFoxMuldersGirlX 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Carnal Resurrection

Mulder burst hastily into his apartment with his gun drawn. Eager eyes searching for any evidence that could be linked to the defensive gun shots that he had heard a few minutes ago, thoroughly looking around for Scully. Distressed by the deafening silence that now hung, he feared the worst.

As he looked down towards the floor, he was instantly petrified in the face of such horror. There was Scully, lying alone on the floor, unbearably only a few steps away from him, in an apparent condition that he would refuse to describe. Asleep, inanimate, lifeless, breathless...dead. Irreversibly as the witnessed scenario, his thoughts advanced into a tragic finding which he refused to accept, no matter the synonyms. There were no euphemisms.

A great amount of vivid red blood was spreading all over her chest, staining her white shirt and blazer, soaking them and then dripping slowly, as the dragging of hours on the surroundings of her body, ironically unlike the horseback riding death. Contradictory to his emotional anesthesia, immersed in a lobotomized state of reaction, paralyzed by the shock, a strong sense of déjà-vu invaded his being against his own will, rationally relating the dreadful scene with that of the other victims, the ones who had their hearts literally ripped from their chests. He agonized over such resemblance. After all, a broken heart would only be possible as a metaphor for such a bitter result of romantic love, though such at it is: A beating muscle, great for its importance and not for its size, completely absent of bones, could only be stabbed or ripped or even damaged by a myocardial infarction, which, from his point of view, would be a more dignified death, natural and not artificially induced or hurried by someone other than God.

Metaphorically speaking, his own heart was broken, and now the dead silence was disturbed by the hammering sound of its beat. What once was a loud and incessant heart beat, gradually became weaker and more and more spaced, as if he were the spectator of his own death.

Mulder desperately rushed towards her, kneeling beside her in mercy. She was static, as an irreparable consequence of the life that had been pitilessly drained out of her, evaporated in a matter of minutes, wasted for no reason. She seemed helplessly dead, synonyms no longer needed, and before such a finding, he felt as if his own heart had been, metaphorically once again, ripped from his chest, however, this time he longed for it to be literal.

He felt powerless before the claws of fate, a destiny perhaps torn by the hands of a stranger, but no less cruelly engineered by the Universe. Maddened by his impotence, disgusted with himself for not hearing her cries, for not relieving her pain and especially for not having been able to save her from such tragedy, there wasn't anything else that he could do besides stare fixedly at her eternal sleeping beauty, which unlike her life, remained untouched.

Hypnotic blue eyes, shut forever, with which he would never be able to exchange glances again. Porcelain pale skin inevitably touched by the cold hands of death, and which he would no longer be able to touch, accidentally nor purposely. Her delicate hands unsuccessfully beat after her struggle for survival, satin hands that bravely tried to protect herself from an unexpected attack, hands unable to touch him again for all eternity. At this point, even though he drove the core of hatred so deep for the despicable killer, whether human or created by a sick mind, somehow Mulder contradictorily envied him for touching her for the last time.

The blood that ran down her neck was contrasting with the red of her hair, such an intense colour that once was directly connected to the very meaning of life, that meant she could brighten any room with her mere presence and arouse stares, now was doomed to be confined in the lonely darkness of a coffin. Lips still, perfectly outlined, reddish for the life that they had brought, the ones which no longer would pronounce her words, that would lock her sweet voice forevermore. Lips sealed, freshly cold, crushing any other chance for a kiss, secretly desired by both, having admitted their love but not yet consummating it. The feeling of having all the possibilities metaphorically ripped from him at the very moment she died, precious moments with her that would never return and that fatefully would have had the opportunity to happen, was devastating, an unimaginable suffering. She was ripped from him.

Taken by such unbearable grief, drowning in despair, he felt as if his own eyes would melt into tears that wouldn't be dried by her, and felt the urge to touch her face, for the last time. He tightly closed his eyes, forcing the tears to stream down his face as he mentally made promises to the Universe to simply bring her back to him, praying to a God that he had never believed in. Almost instantly at his touch, and as if she were listening to his prayers, Scully woke up terrified. Even confused, his automatic response was to hug her tight, and she only reached up around his neck, clawing at his shoulder after realizing his presence, desperately sobbing a cry that could no longer be stifled.

When they finally broke their embrace, Mulder carelessly tore off Scully's shirt as an attempt to seek for her injuries, wetting his hands in her blood and inevitably exposing her black lace bra. He rejoiced to find that surprisingly there weren't any wounds to explain the origin of so much bloodshed, or if there were any, somehow it supernaturally healed. Choosing to ignore the facts, Mulder gratefully accepted the given second chance, a chance that shouldn't be missed or simply ignored under any circumstances, so, he spontaneously decided to allow his desire, grabbing her by the waist as he greedily kissed her mouth. She didn't push him away, nor refused his voracious behaviour, instead, her actions were inviting to deepen the bond that was now established between them.

Once again, intoxicated by their lustful desires, this time, they deliberately gave way to the seductive dance of undressing, not worrying about opened doors nor the prying eyes that soon would arrive. Failed writers and their fictional killers wouldn't cross their minds, not even time, nor life, much less death. They were untouchable at that very moment. Each piece of clothing that was kindly taken off, was a step closer to when their naked bodies would finally meet.

Their kisses became more urgent, in a unusual ferrous mixture of blood and the salty tears that were shed by both. Completely undressed, they found themselves looking deep into each other's eyes, finally succumbing to their released desires.

At that very moment, they were able to understand and even feel the real meaning of immortality. Two souls intrinsically connected, loving each other in the most transcendental way, hearts beating together, rhythmically, so even death itself could be deceived, a brief and delightful feeling of timelessness.

By Hate being abducted by aliens 


End file.
